He Said, She Said
by Amarie1
Summary: Written for the Knock, Knock challenge at the Burping Troll. What thoughts were running through Faramir's head before he proposed to Eowyn? What made her decide to give up her fantasy attraction to Aragorn. This is just one possibility. Two Parts
1. Default Chapter

He Said, She Said - Part One

By Deby

April 18th, 3019 of the Third Age

The Steward had come at the urging of the Warden and when he saw that she indeed had again grown pale, he chided himself for neglecting her. He had known something was amiss when she had refused her brother's summons to the Field of Cormallen and still he had chosen to attend to matters of state rather than the matter closest to his heart. 

With a pang of guilt, he returned the welcoming smile she gave him and it had taken little in the way of persuasion to entice her to walk the walls of the city as they had often done when he, too, was in the Healer's care. The sun shone brightly upon them, a phenomenon the people of Gondor had seen too little of before Sauron's downfall. The brooding clouds of slate that had once hovered over the city had been shredded and scattered by the clean, healing winds of victory over the darkness. Passing through the circles, the couple trod streets that had been cleaned of the stains war had left behind. Pounding hammers, rasping saws and cheerful voices blended to sing of the rebuilding and rebirth of Minas Tirith. The din was muted by distance as they climbed the steps to the parapet.

'_When had she been first touched with frost? '_he mused as they wandered side by side in silence. _'Was it with the decline of her uncle, the late King of Rohan, or the needless death of her beloved cousin, Theodred, the King's only son and heir? Perhaps the cause lay even farther back in her past , back to the death of her mother that came too soon after the slaying of her father.'_

Should he venture a guess of his own, he believed the seeds had been planted the day she made a heart-breaking, life-changing discovery. Though she possessed a proud spirit, an iron strength of will, and mastery of the sword equal to any knight of the Mark, she was bound and fettered by a custom that decreed she could exercise none of these things. Yet, in the end, when she defied the rules of propriety, she attained honor and glory on the Pelennor when the Witch-king fell to her sword with the aid of the halfling, Meriadoc.

Faramir was helpless to stop the shudder that shook him from head to toe. He had ridden under that same Shadow, it had almost been more than his wounded mind and body could bear. And this seemingly delicate as a lily-of-the-valley, golden haired beauty had slain the Undead but it wasn't enough. A quick glance to his right proved his reaction had gone unnoticed and he returned to his reflections.

Now it seemed that Eowyn sought a different honor for herself, one they both knew would never be hers just as she waited for the summons that would never come. Then again, could it be that she remained in the city for another reason? The two had passed many an hour in each other's company while they dwelt in the Houses of Healing, most of them pleasantly. The Gondorian captain had learned much about the Rohirrim shield-maiden, and she of him, as a friendship developed that allowed the sharing of confidences. Faramir had seen no sign that she considered him to anything but a friend, yet he had sensed something hidden in the clear blue eyes that she was not ready to reveal. A mere friend? Perhaps, perhaps not.

Still, what of himself, what did his heart hold for the White Lady of Rohan? Pity? Affection? Love? To be sure, it had begun in pity for the valiant warrior who was blind to the valor of her deeds. But time spent with her had transformed pity to admiration for here was a woman who would not be content to sit at a man's feet, not this woman. She would take her rightful place at his side and the man who had Eowyn at his side could accomplish anything. 

It was with that thought that he had realized pity and admiration had given way to love. Faramir of Gondor loved Eowyn of Rohan, of that he was certain. Could she, would she settle for marriage to a lowly Steward and give up her fruitless wish to be the wife of a King? He could only knock at the door of her heart and pray she would let him in. 

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~finis~

'Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Eowyn! But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten; and you are a lady beautiful, I deem, beyond even the words of the Elven-tongue to tell. And I love you. Once I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, without fear or any lack, were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, still I would love you. Eowyn, do you not love me?'

Faramir 

The Steward and The King

The Return of the King


	2. He Said, She Said Part Two

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It is only fair that I start this section out by groveling at my reader's feet. Thanks to Dimfuin's timely review, I finally realized that I had never posted part two. *smacks self on the head* Please enjoy dear reader while I write "I won't be a space cadet" 100 times on the blackboard.

He Said, She Said - Part Two

By Deby

April 18th, 3019 of the Third Age

The sounds of optimistic hope that rang through every circle of the city were muted and a silent stillness shrouded her like a fog. Her senses closed down one by one until she was left with nothing but her sight and that was limited to the man facing her. She had no past, no future, she only existed in that single moment of time. Could she do as he asked? 

She was Eowyn of Rohan, a shield-maiden, trained in the ways of war, not home and hearth. She had at last broke free of the bonds that forced her to remain behind as the Riders galloped out of Edoras to meet battle and glory. Through subterfuge, she had attained these things, though, now, it seemed a hollow victory. There had been no comfort in remaining at the King's side as he was felled by his own horse. Even the achievement of a feat that no mortal man could have hoped to accomplish, the slaying of the Witch-king, offered little in the way of consolation. Was she ready to relinquish all she had ever known, all she had ever been and join with this man? 

From their conversations in the Houses of Healing, she knew that Faramir was no ordinary man with the requisite expectations. Just as she, he had experienced loss and despair, peace and hope. From his lips she had heard the words of admiration for the qualities that most would consider unsuitable in a woman. This man would never ask her to lay aside her sword, because of this, and his love for her, she would do so willingly.

He loved her and he deserved no less than the whole of her, not one half given to him while she withheld what she had thought to give to another. And what about this other? From his sudden appearance at Edoras, until this moment, she had lived for a particular summons that would now come from the east, if it came at all. Or so she had thought. Of course she realized that such a summons would be tantamount to a declaration that Aragorn would not, could not make. Yet even if the uncrowned King of Gondor had allowed himself to do so, did it mean he had accomplished what no other man had?

Long ago she had barricaded her heart behind glacial walls of ice. Walls thick and cold that forbid any man to break through to claim her love, and none had. Did she believe that Aragorn had done so? Inherent honesty proclaimed 'no'. At long last she acknowledged the thread of truth that stood out in his rejection that night, and repeated itself the next day. Bitter tears had fallen to cold stone in the barren hall. She knew, as he did, that he was denying more than just her desire to ride with him. Did she weep for his rejection of her affections or for underlying knowledge that he had not truly touched her heart? 

Faramir and Aragorn, both bore the grey eyes and raven locks that came with their Numenorean heritage. She studied the man before her. So alike they were and yet so different. Unlike the other, this man offered her his heart, his wise and gentle heart which saw her more clearly than she saw herself and for that reason, or in spite of it, loved her.

Slowly, Eowyn again became aware of her surroundings as the fog lifted and her senses returned. She felt the icy sheath around her heart melting, and for the first time in recent memory, she truly felt the warmth of the sun. Not the blinding orb that arced above them, but the light that shone in his eyes and surrounded her with its dazzling brilliance. The heat seeped through the pores of her skin, penetrated tissue and sank into her bones.

Her eyes widened in naïve astonishment, is this how it was meant to be? Is this how it was supposed to feel? No banners or trumpets to announce it, nor town criers to shout from the highest circle in the city that she loved Faramir of Gondor. Instead, it was found in the warmth of the sun as it declared that the winter's prolonged reign had ended and the long awaited spring had come. Joyfully, she flung open the door to her heart to his knock and let the light shine in.

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****finis****

'Then the heart of Eowyn changed, or else at last she understood it. And suddenly her winter passed, and the sun shone upon her.'

The Steward and The King

Return of the King


End file.
